


Step By Step, Day By Day

by sapphireangel



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, Post-Grima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphireangel/pseuds/sapphireangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chrom deals with the five stages of grief as he tries to continue on his life as Exalt without his wife, Robin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Denial

He could have sworn he went to bed with her the night before.  He could have sworn that her lips touched his right as he drifted off to sleep, and that the sight of his wife dissolving before his eyes was nothing more than a fleeting nightmare.  He thought that once he escaped such a mental void, he would wake to her amber gaze and loving smile.  The feeling of her fingers playfully tousling his cobalt locks; a common way for the queen to wake her exalt.  He would awake and hold her close, explaining to her how he had dreamt that they went to war, that _she_ was Grima’s avatar and that her bodily sacrifice was inevitable.  What a horrific story it would have been, yet enticing nonetheless over a blissful breakfast with their daughter babbling in his lap.  Her laugh would send his heart aflutter, for she was truly his other half—their life was simply perfect.  Gangrel was removed from power, Ylisse secured a victory, the realm was at peace, Chrom was able to wed his tactician and best friend, and they had a beautiful, healthy daughter all to their own.  Valm, Validar, Grima, his daughter actually returning from another time…none of it was real.  It was just part of this odd, twisted nightmare... 

  

Opening his eyes, Chrom was welcomed with an empty side to his bed.  It was cold, lifeless, and the sheets were barely thrown aside as if no one had laid there in days.  No one had, Robin left their realm nearly a month ago. 

 

No, she wasn’t gone, it was all a nightmare.  Most likely his beautiful wife was tending to their daughter, which was something she tried to do every morning.  He could just imagine her tired, yet loving eyes as she held their infant in her arms.  Lucina would stare up at her mother, admiring such a strong and intelligent woman even at such a tender age.  Robin would playfully tickle the child’s chin just to see her smile and those gorgeous blue eyes light up with glee, glee caused by nothing but unconditional love. 

 

“Robin?” Chrom sat up in bed rubbing his eyes, “Mhm…not in here? She’s probably with Lucina.” When he placed his palm upon her side of the mattress he felt no heat, “How long has she been up? I hope she slept.” 

 

The exalt put his housecoat over his nightwear and made his way to the nursery.  The hallway seemed exceptionally empty, and for some reason no flower pots decorated the occasional pedestal.  How odd, Robin always made sure that the servants kept the vases filled with her favorites.  Could she have forgotten? It was easy to do so when you had a baby to take care of.  He only chuckled at the thought, keeping a mental reminder to have a maid fill their hallways with colorful blooms once more. 

 

“Robin?” he called as he approached the nursery, “Robin, my love, is everything alright?”

 

Why did he feel such a tightening sensation in his chest when she did not answer?  What in his mind caused him to feel as if he was expecting a reply, a simple ‘good morning’, or any reassurance that she was actually there.  His breath hitched when he opened the door…and were those tears in his eyes?

 

A wet nurse was tending to the child, her gaze falling upon the exalt’s with a knitted brow and quivering lip.  His daughter was preoccupied with having her own breakfast and didn’t even budge from the woman’s breast.  Robin…never wanted a wet nurse, she vowed to break the tradition his family held in order to bond with her only child. 

“Lord Chrom…” the nurse had a tremble to her voice, “What are you doing? Have you fallen ill?  Lady Robin hasn’t been with us for…over a month, my lord.  Forgive me for bringing it up but…” 

 

That’s when the young exalt felt his world crash before him, the walls of Ylisstol literally crumbling into a pile of rubble. 

 

“What are you saying?”

 

Why was he smiling?

 

“Robin…heh, Robin just gave birth a few weeks ago. There’s no way she’s gone…”

 

Who was he kidding?  That nightmare was no nightmare, but a dream that reflected the last few months of his life.  Horrible, blood-drenched days he spent apart from his child with his wife who eventually gave herself up for his future.  Robin was gone, and she wasn’t coming back.  Chrom was simply in denial. 

 

“…Right. Right. Gods, you’re right. Forgive me I…I didn’t mean to intrude.” He shut his eyes for modesty, but the damage had truly been done.  That wasn’t his wife feeding their child—that wasn’t Robin. 

 

“If you could, my lord.” The nurse meekly shifted with the baby still in her arms, “I think Lady Lucina will be finished soon.  If you would like I can have her brought to you when you finish breakfast.”

 

He swallowed hard, pushing the bile back down his throat—it was so dry, so very dry and aching that it nearly caused him to vomit right then and there.  Yet Chrom vowed that he would stay strong for Lucina’s sake and for the halidom. 

 

“Yes, of course. Thank you.”


	2. Anger

That training dummy did nothing wrong. In truth it was simply created to take a beating, but not one so vile and vicious than from the exalt of Ylisse himself.  Chrom was one to break things, and even at times he found himself busting holes in walls and the like.  But in that very moment, the lord felt nothing but a seething emotion deep within his chest.  It burned through him like a white hot flame, as if his core were about to combust, killing him in the process.  Falchion ripped through the dummy’s ‘flesh’ and ‘bone’ after several violent hacks, none as elegant as his usual swings.  This was pure rage being filtered through the tip of his blade—rage, regret, sorrow, and a load of other indistinguishable emotions. 

 

Soon the dummy was no more, leaving only a post and a wired shell of its former being.  Yet that did not suffice for the lord with the labored breath.  No, he wanted more—he wanted justice.  He wanted all of the wrongs to be right, all of his sorrows to be repented for, all of the lost time to be restored to him…

 

He wanted his wife back.  It had been a year since she left. He wanted his damn wife back.

 

The wired shell did not last long, for Chrom went back at hacking away at its remains.  Every grunt grew louder with every swing—his mouth an intimidating snarl, one that his vassal, Frederick, knew all too well.

 

“Milord, I think that will do.”  He muttered, knowing very well that even if he was explicit in his instructions, Chrom wouldn’t listen.  He was gone, lost in his own regret-laden rage. “Milord…”

 

“You lied to me!” a sudden burst from the exalt, one that wasn’t entirely unforeseen, “How dare you lie to me!? I gave you my everything and you lied!”

 

“That’s enough!” Frederick barked, “Lay down your sword, Milord, there’s nothing else left of the target.”

 

Despite his years of training under a chivalrous code with the help of his own knight, Chrom had yet to truly control his emotions behind his blade.  He was dangerous, savage, and above all in a pure rage-induced frenzy.  Even when the frame fell off of the post, even when there was nothing left of the training dummy, he still wanted more—he wanted another clean kill. 

 

“Another.” He muttered, “Bring me another effigy. I’m not done.” Hands shaking and chest heaving, Chrom’s wild gaze found Frederick’s.  His eyes were demanding in nature right behind his sweat-laden locks. “Frederick-”

 

“Again, I think you’ve done enough today.”  He didn’t move from his spot, the old knight was wise enough to know that in such a state the young man had little control over his actions.  He was the same when his mother died, he was the same with Emmeryn passed, and truly he would be the same when his wife disappeared.  The vassal couldn’t help but to silently pray for her return during those days—Robin was the rock that kept Chrom in check.  When Emmeryn passed, Robin kept the lord calm and collected.  Frederick, unfortunately, did not have the nurturing side that the late queen had. 

 

Chrom simply glared at him, a low growl then escaping his throat, “Did I stutter?”

 

“Did _I_ stutter?”  Frederick could only shoot a glare right back at him, “Lay that sacred blade down, lest I take it from you until you act like the exalt you’re supposed to be.”  His voice carried its usual sternness, and Chrom would have none of it.

 

“Try me!” another explosive response from the still-mourning king, “You have no idea what it’s like to waste four years of your life loving a liar! You cannot fathom the pain of being left a widower after being promised, right to your face, that your wife wouldn’t leave you!” He threw Falchion to the ground, “She just came in, broke my heart, and left me with a child! I _devoted_ myself to that deceitful wench! She-”

 

Screeching. The pure sound of a child screeching interrupted the lord’s bantering.  He didn’t know for how long, but his sister stood upon the veranda with his child in her arms. She had heard it all, and though Lucina could not fully understand her father’s words, just the sound of his angered griping caused her to weep.  Lissa, on the other hand, had the look of sheer horror in her eyes.

 

“How could you even say that about her?” she asked, gently patting the child’s back, “Chrom, that’s your wife you’re speaking of! That’s Robin!”

 

Lucina continued to cry over Lissa’s scolding, the sound was deafening to Chrom’s ears. 

 

“Take her away.” Eyes like fire stared upon the visiting princess, who took time out of her own schedule to check on her brother and niece, “She doesn’t need to hear this, take her away!”

 

“She’s your daughter and you should be tending to her, not me.” Lissa shot back, tears forming in her hazel eyes, “I came here from Regna Ferox to see my niece and this is what I come back to? Chrom…Chrom, you can’t seriously be-”

 

“That’s enough, Lissa.” Frederick had no choice but to step between the two of them, blocking Chrom’s view of his little sister.

 

“Daddy!” Lucina bawled, “Daddy! No! Daddy!”

 

Chrom quickly picked his sword up, sheathing it and making his way hastily up the stairs, “I-I’m here, Lucina. I’m here.”

 

“No.” Lissa took a few steps back with the child still in her arms, “I won’t let you hold her when you’re like this, Chrom! What would Robin say to you acting like a raging idiot?”

 

“Don’t you speak of her name!”   

 

“Milady-”

 

“Frederick!” Lissa took a few more steps from her now-irritated brother, meeting eyes with his vassal, “Do something! He’s acting like-”

 

“Don’t you dare!” Chrom shot back, “You never knew him; don’t you dare compare me to him!”

 

“I think you both need to quiet yourselves.”  Again, Frederick’s voice was the calmest in that moment.  He made his way to the bickering children then taking Lucina from Lissa’s arms. So as to not harm the wailing child, Lissa released her without hesitation.  Yet the child continued to cry for her father, hoping that he would make all of the noises go away.  He was all she had. 

 

But Frederick had little intent on handing her to her father, even if she cried for his name repeatedly.  Not yet, at least.

 

“Take a deep breath, Milord.” Frederick warned him, “Get your hand off of your blade and take a deep breath.” 

 

Chrom hadn’t realized that he was two seconds from drawing his blade on his sister… he had no idea that his pent up rage for his deceased wife could bubble into something that begged for violence and revenge.  He was nothing but a short fuse, a bomb waiting to go off and destroy whatever else he loved within its radius.  Hands shaking, Chrom quickly disarmed himself by unlatching the white straps around his chest, causing Falchion and its scabbard to fall to the ground with a loud clank.

 

His eyes were filled with horror—the echoing of his daughter’s cries, the look of disdain from his vassal, and the tear-stained countenance of his little sister, who had grown into a woman in the year since Robin left him.  He could see the age upon Frederick’s face and even the grey hairs that peppered his side burns.  Lucina, his little girl, _their_ little princess, was no longer an infant.  She could speak, and the only words that flowed from her mouth were of him, her only parent. 

 

Memories of Robin holding their daughter flooded his mind once more; that was only two years ago.  Lucina was two.

 

_She was two_. 

 

Shaking his head, mostly in disgust for himself, he removed his training gloves and approached his vassal and daughter,

 

“Forgive me,” he began, “I…I’m sorry, please, let me just apologize to my daughter. I-uh-she needs me. Please.”

 

“I caution you,” Frederick began as he gently handed the weeping child to her father, “a king who cannot control their temper in times of grief cannot justly run a kingdom.  Milord, as your advisor, knight, and friend, I can only express my worry for you and your daughter.”  He sighed, for his next words might not have settled well with the young exalt, “You need to do your best to move on…for the both of you.” 

 

Chrom held Lucina close to his sweat-dampened tunic, which she did not seem to mind for she instantly nuzzled her face into his neck and softened her cries into childish whimpers. He could feel his jaw tightening with his chest, yet he dare not shed a tear before his loved ones.

 

“…Please, Chrom.” Lissa whispered, “Please stop doing this.  She’s…she’s gone.” 

 

In that moment he could see the pain in her own eyes—Lissa missed Robin, too.  She missed her oh-so-dearly and most likely wept at night in mourning as well.  His sister’s absence made it harder to cope, but Lissa did have her own life to live—she had a husband and child in the north, and she only made the off-season visit strictly to make sure that Lucina was taken care of.   Her niece meant the world to her. 

 

“I’m sorry, Lissa,” Chrom confessed, “I didn’t mean what I said about Robin, I-”

 

“You’re mad that she sacrificed herself. I know. You’ve been mad about it for the past five months. But she did it for you, me, Frederick, the Shepherds, the halidom, and that little angel in your arms, Chrom. She did it especially for her.”  Lissa’s gaze went to her boots for a moment before shifting to Frederick, “We all miss Robin, a lot.  She was amazing and the best queen Ylisse could ever have, even if it was for a short time.”

 

“Indeed.” Frederick joined in, “Lady Robin gave us the ultimate gift: a bright future safe from that wicked dragon.  Instead of dwelling on her lying to you, you might consider _why_ she did it…” 

 

Lucina had finally calmed down and managed to fall asleep in her father’s arms.  Chrom gently patted her on the back as he dwelled on what Frederick had said.  Was it to spare him from becoming upset and losing focus?  Was it to spare him from being the one to simply put the dragon back to sleep?  That answer was with Robin, but he couldn’t help but to speculate a bit… 

 

“I understand.” He gave them both a nod, “I will…try to keep myself in check, for Lucina’s sake. For everyone’s sake.  I’m sorry…”

 

“Tis a part of the mourning process,” Frederick reminded him, “In due time, Milord, you will come to terms with Lady Robin’s passing. This, I can assure you.”

 

“And we’ll be here for you, Chrom. You’re not alone.  Maybe Robin is watching you right now, from wherever she is.  Don’t let her down.” As usual, the youngest managed a small smile; radiant reassurance, as some would call it.  A small hiccup escaped the child in Chrom’s arms, and he knew it was best to put her down for a much-needed nap.

 

“Shall we give your sister the proper ‘welcome home’ greeting, Milord?” Frederick inquired with his usual cocked brow.  Chrom could only manage a nod before following his sister and vassal into the castle,

 

“Thank you.”    

 


	3. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending a year in hiding, Morgan requests Nah's audience at a local tavern. Nah brings Morgan some interesting news about his father.

It was a tavern of some sort, something nondescript and crowded that caused others to blend in with the crowd.  That was their meeting place; he had to keep his identity a secret, and it was the only place where no one would really think twice about a young man in tattered robes with off-colored hair. He made the decision to hide his identity, just like his older sister did.  It was for the best, considering that they could be easily pinned as some bastard children of the late exalt, especially considering their close resemblance to the current one.  He missed having his family by his side, but his sister was right; they couldn’t meddle any longer in Ylisstol, they were cast from their own time and they had to create new lives.  New identities.

 

“Morgan?”

 

The young man turned his head over towards the small manakete who had made her way to his table.  She smiled upon seeing his face, the face of the current exalt with the brand in his eye twin and opposite to his sister’s.  Wherever she was, she was most likely trying to cover hers, but Morgan felt no need to, considering his counterpart would never exist in this world.  Plus, you had to be really close to him to see it, and he enjoyed his personal space. 

 

“Hey, Nah.” He replied with his usual friendly grin, “I’ve been waiting for you. Sorry it had to be here but…”  Shaking his head, he quickly removed himself from his seat and pulled a stool out for the young lady.  She graciously accepted it and took her seat while plopping her bag upon the table. 

 

“I understand. Good thing you still wear that cloak, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to find you.  I’m really glad I got your letter, I’ve been so worried about you.”  She eyed his visage for a moment and then the tuft of off-blue hair that protruded from his hood.  “The dye is wearing off I see.”

 

“I know, I’ve had to walk around with my hood on most of the time. People give me weird looks, but I feel like they would give me weirder looks if I just let my natural hair show.”

 

“Right.  Of the two of you, you look the most like your father anyway.  I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s alright, I didn’t expect to stay with them much longer anyway.  Lucina had a point; we don’t belong here, none of us do.  I mean, at least Lucina and I especially.  You on the other hand-”

 

“Serving Tiki and Naga as usual.” She interrupted him, “Basically in hiding for the most part. I spend all of my time in the temple…” Nah couldn’t help but to trail off, causing for Morgan to cock his brow in confusion.

 

“Is it really that bad?” he inquired, “I thought you enjoyed serving Lady Tiki and Naga.”

 

“I do, I really do, it’s just…” again, she trailed off. 

 

“…Nah, is there something you’re not telling me?”

 

She furrowed her brow, “There is.  It’s actually why I wanted to meet with you sooner than you had intended.  Forgive me, Morgan, I really shouldn’t be delving into your family matters…”

 

“My family matters? Nah, I don’t…” he had to stop himself. Morgan _did_ have a family, a broken and tattered family. His sister went off on her own, his mother had passed, and his father was the reigning exalt and a widower.  What could the young man do?  There was nothing within his power.  “…Father didn’t want to really see Lucina and I after mother passed.  The few weeks after we defeated Grima, he would look at us and tears would well in his eyes.  We look too much like her, Nah.  He didn’t want to even look at _me_.” 

 

Chrom was rather cold to Morgan and Lucina after Robin’s passing, their resemblance was uncanny, and every time he would see his son especially, he would weep.  Though Morgan shared numerous traits with his father, the way he dressed, the way his face was shaped, and his brown eyes were all of his mother’s.  Lucina wanted nothing more than to be there for her mourning father, but she knew in her heart that there was no place in his world for his children from a different time. She encouraged Morgan to have the same mindset.

 

Nah furrowed her brow in response, folding her hands together and placing them on the table, “This is why I needed to talk to you.  At the moment, I think you father needs you more than anything, despite how cold he was at first.”

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“As you know, I serve in the temple of Naga at times along with Lady Tiki when she makes her visitations.  I was doing a bit of housekeeping when…”

 

* * *

There the exalt stood with his sacred blade in his arms, sheathed in its usual scarlet and gold scabbard.  He knelt down before the statue of the divine dragon, placing the blade before him, yet avoiding all eye contact.  The blade only had a faint gleam of the exalted power, and before long it would return to its normal state until the next awakening would be performed…if it _had_ to be performed, that is.  But thanks to his loving wife, he wouldn’t have to, no one would. This weighed on his conscious as he knelt before Naga’s image, hoping that she would actually appear to him in some form or another…though unlikely, considering it was just the familial temple and not the one on Mt. Prism.  Still, at this point, he couldn’t help but to make an attempt.

 

“…O Naga, divine dragon whose blood runs through my veins, please hear me out, for in this hour I am in need of guidance.”  His eyes shifted from the floor to the altar, and from the altar to the statue, “…I know I should visit here more often but…forgive me. This past year has just…”

 

He sighed, stifling a sob in the process,

 

“…I miss her so much.  I would do anything to bring her back, _anything_.  Lucina, she cannot grow up in this world without her mother.  If anything, please, I only beg that you can find some way to return Robin to this world if not for me than for our child.” 

 

Silence.  As expected.

 

“…I would be willing to make any sacrifice or partake in any ritual to bring her back.  I searched high and low, all throughout Ylisse, even in Plegia around the remains of Grima. I have spent hours trying to find her. She can’t truly be gone, I know it. You even said yourself that if her earthly bonds were strong enough she would have a chance of survival.”  His azure gaze fell upon his left hand, right onto the golden band with the engraved royal crest—Robin’s lay in the castle, locked away in a small box, waiting to wrap around her finger once more.  He would never hand it over to another woman.  “I assumed that…our marriage was a strong enough bond to anchor her here. If…if it wasn’t enough, I wish to know what I did wrong.” 

 

Again, he was greeted with silence.  Naga might not have had the time to give the exalt what he wanted, or maybe her essence had not graced that particular temple at the time.  For a more direct answer, he might have needed to make the pilgrimage to the sacred meadow.  That would take weeks, weeks he could have spent searching for his wife’s body so as to at least have some form of closure. But the silence was deafening, and his prayers seemingly were unanswered. 

 

“…forgive me, please.”

 

“Return to your daughter.”  A voice echoed against the slate walls of her sacred temple, yet no divine or ethereal figure appeared before him.  Was it a hallucination?  At this point in his grief, he wouldn’t put it past his own mind to trick him in such a way. Chrom brushed his bangs away and looked up to her image again,

 

“That was my intention.”

 

“I cannot speak for what the Fell Dragon did to her body.  Time will test your bonds and your strength. Do not worry on your past, but focus on your future.”

 

“So she’s gone forever?”

 

“I cannot answer that.”

 

Chrom bowed his head to her, accepting her words.   

 

“Bargaining for her body will do nothing for you.  Your acceptance will give you light.”

 

Chrom felt the room grow colder—maybe she was there, maybe Naga had actually taken form before him and he simply could not register it.   Her voice seemed cold and distant and dripped with disdain and irritation.  The divine spirit, who had nothing but compassion for humanity, answered to the exalt as if she were scolding him.    

 

“Understood. Thank you.”

 

And with that, he left a monetary tribute and took his sword with him, passing Nah on the way out of the temple without even recognizing her.

  

* * *

 

 

“I heard the entire conversation on both ends.” Nah explained, “Your father is in a dark place, Morgan.  I just…I fear that he’s going to try to continue searching out a way to find your mother’s body.  He doesn’t have closure.”

 

“None of us do.” Morgan shot back, “Mother just disappeared without warning.  Father even told us that she promised him the final blow.  It was a shock and, well, you know the rest…”

 

“I understand that, I really do.  But, had your mother made the selfish decision of allowing your father to kill Grima, it would have weighed on her conscious for the rest of her life.  Think about it, laying there knowing that in a thousand years all that we worked for would have been for naught.” 

 

Morgan balled his fist on the table, cringing at her words.  She was right, and maybe that was a fact that his father had looked over.

 

“Even I could sense just by looking at him that he’s in a fit of desperation.  From what Naga had said to him, he might not be watching over your sister at the current moment.  I know that…it’s none of your business either, considering that you don’t exist in this realm but…I encourage you to seek out your father, even for a moment.  Maybe you can help comfort him.”

 

“If he’s in this state, wouldn’t I make it _worse_?” Morgan furrowed his brow, “I still look like my mother.  He’ll take one look at me and see her.”

 

Nah gave him a warm smile of reassurance,

 

“I don’t think so in the least bit.  Seeing you might give him hope, Morgan.  Your existence itself should give him the hope of eventually having his son…” she shifted in her seat and placed a gentle hand to his fist, “I know she’ll come back.  Don’t ask me how…I just know.” 

 

 


	4. Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom endures the pressure of the court and also receives a visitor.

 

Why did his knight have to knock so loudly upon the door of his bedchamber? All he wanted to do was sleep—sleep away the rest of his days, alone, lying next to the cold sheets where his wife once slept.  He wanted to curl up and continue to weep for her, as if his tears could somehow bring her back. It had been over a year, why was he still so torn by her passing? Why had he not moved on?  Lucina was walking, talking, laughing, and asking for her father. Not once did she beg for a mother, she had no idea what a mother even was.  He had to take care of her. Chrom was her only living parent.  But, Gods, waking up every morning was nothing but an agonizing chore for the exalt.  The empty bedside reminded him of his loneliness. The locked closet and chained off armoire a symbol of his negligence in accepting her death—he wouldn’t dare allow anyone to take her belongings, it was much too soon.

 

“Milord, it’s time to wake.”  Frederick called from behind the large set of oak-finished doors.  Chrom could only muster a grunt before shifting in his sheets, once again grabbing at the empty side of the bed as if there were a hand which would greet him.  Nothing.

 

He was a commander of an army and a leader of an entire nation.  The man used to witness blood and carnage on a daily basis, and when a comrade would fall he would only mourn for a short while.  When his sister passed, it stung even more, but he had Lissa and Robin to bring him back to his feet.  It would normally take a few months or so for someone to completely accept a loved one’s death…

 

But not in this case.  Robin was much more to him than family, or a lover, or a wife.  She was part of him; she was his other half.  He couldn’t accept her passing because it would be accepting that half of his being was lost forever. Chrom could not and would not forget Robin.  It was seemingly impossible. 

 

“Milord!”

 

This was merely a daily task, Chrom would lay in bed until his knight would practically force him out of it. It was utterly pathetic that a man of such radiance and charisma would turn so cold and lifeless over someone he had only known for a small fraction of his life.  But this woman changed his life…she gave him hope, strength, happiness, comfort, and even a beautiful daughter whose peaceful future was guaranteed. 

 

She sacrificed herself for their daughter…it was out of sheer love.

 

“Five more minutes…” Chrom muttered as he yanked his comforter above his head, “I just need a moment. Please.”

 

Another series of knocks.  Frederick wasn’t going to give up that easily. Chrom’s presence must have been urgent. 

 

But he absolutely did not find it in his heart to care.  Not a single thought came through his mind which urged him to even get out of bed.  What was the point?  Without his queen at his side, how could he possibly lead a kingdom? How could he raise their child?  Eating? Bathing? What was the point?  Eventually he would die, possibly soon if Naga would bless him in such a way. He was lucky enough to have lived through two wars, it was about time his luck ran out.  A stray heart attack? Maybe he would stop breathing in his sleep. Was dying of a broken heart a thing? He felt that it should have been.  At times, he even wondered if he were already dead, and that this was simply hell.  It didn’t have to be fire and blood—he could have suffered from sheer loneliness for the rest of his life.

 

“Milord you have the court waiting for you in the throne room. This is completely unacceptable.”

 

The exalt didn’t even notice his vassal entering his room. Not even the sound of the door slamming shut behind him stirred Chrom from his position.  He was laying there on his side, staring past the pillow which Robin would lay her head upon every night. Tearstains decorated his pallid cheeks, his eyes, once a youthful crystal blue, were reddened, darkened, and completely lifeless.  How long had he been weeping?

 

“…I said I would be out in five minutes.” The lord grumbled, “I just…I’m having a slow start.”

 

“Milord, your late sleep-ins are causing a stir within the court. The others are finding your behavior that of a child. I hope that you understand that as exalt you have a duty not only to your country but to your people.  They rely on your guidance and activeness. That being said, it’s time to get up.”

 

His words seemed force.  Of course Frederick did not have the intent to sound inconsiderate and rude.  Robin’s passing weighed on them all, and it was only appropriate for Chrom to feel so outright…lifeless.  With a heavy sigh, Chrom’s knight tore the comforter away from the young man, and he proceeded to make his way towards Chrom’s own wardrobe to grab his clothes. 

 

“I am far past the point of dressing you, Milord. I will retrieve your garments for the day, but you must bring yourself to make yourself decent…” he paused for a moment to look over his shoulder, “…or I guess I could get a maid to come in and dress you. That’s up to you.”

 

“No.” he finally stirred, bringing himself into a seated position, “…I…Gods, no, I don’t want another woman to see me in such a state.”

 

Frederick gave a subtle nod, “…I’m sure that Lady Robin wouldn’t have wanted to see you in your current state, either.”  He gently sat Chrom’s clothing upon Robin’s vanity and took his leave, gently closing the door behind him.  It might have not been the best thing to say, given that Chrom immediately put his head within his palms…and wept. Lightly. He needed to keep himself quiet, he didn’t want a single person to see him in such a state.  Tears were not suitable for a king. 

 

Yet approaching that vanity seemed like an endless journey for him—a grim pilgrimage as he would call it.  That vanity, that beautiful ivory vanity with the oak stool that Robin would seat herself upon every morning as she combed through her beautiful locks.  Sometimes he would watch her with a smile; she was always ever radiant to him, even in the earliest of hours.  Alas, that radiance was gone, leaving a cold void to which Chrom could only see himself staring back at him from the mirror.  His body had not changed, but his facial features were sunken, pallid, and a good shave might have been needed later on in the day.  Robin would have never allowed for him to have such a sloppy appearance.

 

Chrom ran his hand over his chin, feeling the scratchy stubble before letting out a painful sigh—the beginning of a sob, one would assume. His eye caught her hairbrush, another object which he demanded not be moved.  He just hoped that one day…one day he would wake up to see her grooming herself as usual.  Gods, there were even a few strands still caught within the fibers—such a familiar color of a woman whom he hadn’t seen in almost two years. 

“Milord…”  Frederick’s tone was worrisome, as if he was warning Chrom that he would have to enter once more.

 

“Just…give me a minute…the zippers are simply caught is all…”

 

Sure. That lie would suffice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Buttoned up in his noble garb, the exalt followed his vassal down the halls of the castle.  Each step was utterly painful, slow, dragging, even causing for Chrom to trip every once in a while. 

 

“The crown won’t sit properly if your head isn’t high, Milord.”

 

It was his way of telling Chrom to straighten his posture.  The bronze and gold headdress did dig into his skull when he lowered his head; had it been level, the discomfort would have ceased.  Yet it was his crown of thorns, his cross to bear, a symbol of the guilt to which he had to carry because he couldn’t save his wife from Grima.  He couldn’t save his own halidom.  He was a coward.

 

“Who are we meeting with this morning?” Chrom asked.

 

“I’d rather not give out the details. You know as of lately they have worried of…the exalted bloodline.”

 

Chrom furrowed his brow, “The exalted bloodline…I have a daughter, I don’t understand what you mean by that. Is one not enough to appease them?”

 

“You make it seem like I approve of their inquiries, Milord.”

 

This caused for Chrom to stop in his tracks, the crown further digging into the forward-most part of his scalp, “Frederick, as a friend, brief me on this, please.”

 

The vassal noticed his posture once more and approached Chrom, gently nudging the lord back and fixing the headdress, “As of the moment, Milord, it would be a disservice if I abandoned my station.  It’s not my choice to make, for my own feelings are not allowed to interfere.”

 

He knew this day would come.  Two years without a queen, two years without the “production” of an heir.  Disease and illness often plagued Ylisse at the most inopportune times, and if Lucina were to fall ill at any moment…

 

 

* * *

 

 

He did not blink.  He did not smile.  He did not once shift in his seat while he was approached by the other members of the court.  Behind those men were several woman, all taking on the appearance of a perfumed and proper woman, yet none of them were even _close_ to carrying themselves the way Robin did.  How he pitied these women for having to stand before him and receive such a nasty snarl—it wasn’t their fault, but he couldn’t keep himself from feeling a dire sense of rage.

 

“This is a joke,” he muttered, “this is a damned joke.”

 

“Lord Chrom, we understand that you might still be mourning the late queen, but you must understand our position.  You have yet to take a new wife, and that has brought concern for us as well as our people.”

 

“There is an heir to the throne already.  Lucina will make a fine leader.” He shot back,

 

“But Lord Chrom, have you not learned from your own history?”

 

“How _dare_ you.”

 

“Milord.”

 

Chrom slowly exhaled after Frederick’s gentle nudge, “…The exalt before me passed under circumstances that were not that of natural death, but of war…a war she never fought in.  If I am to pass, it shall only be of natural causes.  Ylisse is at peace, and I do not plan to break that peace and neither will my daughter, who will follow me upon my own passing…” 

 

How he actually hoped it would be rather soon.  How many days would pass of this misery?

 

“Lord Chrom, we must ask that-”

 

Yet the speaker was cut off as the exalt raised his hand to him. He’d had enough. 

 

“Leave. I’m through with this. As for the maidens, give them another meal before they head back to their noble houses.  There is no room to my left.”  He glanced to the vacated throne before bringing himself to his feet. The women before him gazed upon him, one of them even having the same eye color and hair color as his late wife.  The others were similar, either they carried a similar visage or had traits which the court deemed ‘to Chrom’s taste’.  Alas, the only taste he wished for was of his wife’s skin and lips.  Everything else was bitter, sour, vile…

 

He couldn’t do that to Lucina.  Even if the child did not know her own mother, he could never force another woman to take Robin’s place. 

 

He couldn’t do that to Robin.  Even if Robin could not be brought back, he could never _ever_ lay beside another woman.  Even when a concubine was offered, he immediately refused.  No woman’s skin would be that soft to the touch.  No woman’s body could meld with his in rhythmic bliss the way Robin’s did.  The thought of another woman even touching him made his stomach churn. 

 

“Frederick, I don’t want to be bothered for the rest of the day.” Chrom was quick to head to his bedchamber where he could lay upon _their_ bed and weep until his final days.  Lucina was down for her nap, she wouldn’t need her father. 

 

“Off to mourn again, I would assume?” 

 

“Frederick…”

 

“Milord…Chrom…as your friend I must admit that Robin’s passing has weighed on me as well.  As your knight, I think your decision might be a little too weighed by your emotions…Yet, I understand completely that she is irreplaceable.”

 

“She is, Frederick.  Gods, no one could ever take Robin’s place.  She would utterly despise me for remarrying. I can’t do it, Frederick.”

 

“I know.”

 

“She’s…my other half. She still _is_ my other half, Frederick.  She’s Lucina’s mother…when I look at my daughter, I only see Robin. When she’s awake, she laughs like Robin.  When she’s asleep, her forehead creases like Robin’s. Despite all who say she’s my spitting image, that little girl…is more and more like her mother every day. Gods, Frederick, it hurts to even look at her sometimes.”  He was beginning to break down, a calming hand, clad in iron, fell upon the young exalt’s shoulder.  Frederick wasn’t an emotional man, he could not weep for Robin the way Chrom did.  Yet he understood the feeling of losing someone dear to him from uncontrollable circumstances…

 

“Sometimes I wish to mourn the way you do, Milord.  Forgive me if I seem rather harsh in my ways. I’ll see to it that Lady Lucina is entertained for the rest of the day.  Yet, I must admit, Milord: eventually you will have to accept her death.  You have a duty to perform, and no matter how long it haunts you to have watched her die before you…you must go on.  You must go on for her.” 

 

Chrom wouldn’t dwell longer in his misery before his vassal.  Frederick leveled with him, that’s all that mattered.  He was on his side in the matter. Chrom returned Frederick’s touch with a light pat on his shoulder,

 

“Thank you, old friend.”

 

 

* * *

 

But the tears didn’t stop.  Even after dismissing his vassal, the second Chrom entered his chamber he was reduced to a sobbing mess once again.  The whole room closed in on him, darkness consumed him, and the sound of Robin’s voice echoing within his thoughts dragged him further into his self-inflicted nightmare.  She was there, she was right in front of him.  He didn’t stop her, he just let her shove him aside and finished Grima off herself.  She died in front of him and he _failed._ He failed her just as he did his sister; both died for the good of the halidom, both taking a piece of his life with them. 

 

“Robin…” though he sobbed, his voice was that of a light whimper, “I can’t. Gods, I can’t live in this world without you.  Please…please…” 

 

_We shall meet again in a better life, my love._

 

“Where is that better life? When will it come for me, Robin?  When will I be able…to hold you in my arms again?” Instantly, Chrom grabbed her pillow, embracing it while pressing his nose into its plushness as if some sort of scent left behind his wife could be sensed.  Nothing.  The maids laundered their sheets several times.  Robin’s essence was gone. 

 

“A world without you by my side, Robin, is not a world worth living in. Naga, oh Naga…just take me in my sleep-”

 

A knock on the door interrupted his pitiful whimpers. Again, the metal clang against the oak finish signaled that of his vassal. Chrom nuzzled his head into his pillow, hopefully sending the message that maybe he was asleep for the afternoon—he was known to take naps, anyway.

 

“Milord, you have a visitor.”

 

Chrom refused to fall for that.  Time and time again, these visitors were other women offering themselves as concubines. It sent a cold shiver down his spine just thinking about it.

 

“Milord.”

 

He just wanted to be left alone. For the rest of his days. That’s all the poor man wanted.

 

“Frederick, I can’t.” he groaned, “I can’t do this, Frederick! I can’t look at another woman!”

 

“It’s not a woman. It’s your son.”

 

...was that any better, he wondered.  The young boy, who was a spitting image of his late wife, apparently made his way to Ylisstol to ask for an audience with his ‘father’.  A grim reminder, sadly, that this young man would never exist in the world they lived in.  The son Chrom would never have.  The lord pondered for a moment about the sad truth; in a world ravaged by Grima, he at least had the ability to father a son with his beloved.  In a peaceful realm, he lost that chance completely. 

 

“…Morgan is here?”

 

The door creaked open, Frederick’s prominent nose poked out from the crack,

 

“Yes, he requests your audience, Milord. I would certainly suggest that you grant it…despite-”

 

“Right.” He had to swallow his sorrow. He had to accept that he still _had_ a son, even if that particular son was not birthed by his wife of the current time.  That young man had his hair and his visage—the blood of the exalt flowed through him, and Chrom couldn’t neglect that.  “If you could give me a moment.”

 

“Certainly.”

 

* * *

 

 

And what an awkward reunion it was. The aging exalt sat before arguably a clone of his younger self.  Despite the nearly two-year difference, Morgan had changed considerably in his facial features.  There was no argument that, that young man was Chrom’s son.  But his eyes—his eyes were the bright amber eyes that greeted Chrom every morning before the fallout.  It was rather difficult for Chrom to even look at his son without thinking of Robin.  Morgan, on the other hand, never stopped looking towards his father.  The expression of worry in his eyes should have alarmed Chrom, had he actually gazed upon his son.

 

“Father,” Morgan finally broke the silence, “it’s so good to see you.”

 

Yet Chrom continued his silence. What was he to say to this young man? He failed as a father for shunning his children, he knew his mistakes. But, Gods, seeing Robin in that child’s face only hurt him further.  Morgan let forth a small sigh before putting his hood back up, hiding his hair,

 

“Does this help? Should I call you, ‘Lord Chrom’ instead of ‘father’?”

 

A shrill gasp caused for Morgan to sit back a bit,

 

“Gods, no.” Chrom muttered, “No, no, you’re my son. I’m sorry. Forgive me. Gods, forgive me.” Finally, Chrom met eyes with his second child—immediately catching sight of the young man’s brand, twin to his sister’s and exactly the same shape as the mark on the lord’s shoulder. But his eyes were Robin’s; a beautiful amber hue, glowing even with the shade of a hood.  “You look just like your mother.”

 

“I’ve been told I’m nearly the perfect mix between you and her, though even Frederick claimed, when he saw me, that I look just like you when you were younger.” Morgan lowered his hood once more to reveal his azure locks, the black dye seemingly faded at the tips.  Chrom noticed this odd change.

 

“What happened to your hair?”

 

“Well, Luci told me that we need to try to keep ourselves hidden so…Nah found a special salve that temporarily turns my hair black. Neither of us wanted to interfere with your life…”

 

The statement alone broke the exalt’s heart. 

 

“I’m sorry, Morgan.”

 

“No, no, father. Please. I take no offense. Luci and I are living wonderful lives here. I think for the most part she’s trying to make sure that her little self doesn’t come in contact with her.  You know, just to avoid anything that might upset the order…or something like that.” He chuckled, lightly, “To be honest, I don’t really fully understand it but…I-I’m sorry, I’m not really here for this. I’m here to check up on you.”

 

“Check up on me?” Chrom furrowed his brow, his eyes falling on his wedding band, “Morgan that is very thoughtful of you.  I’m not sure what brought this on, but thank you.” 

 

“How’s Lucina?”

 

Again, Chrom averted his gaze from his son. What brought upon this question?  Admittedly, he had not seen his daughter in three days.   

 

“She, too, looks just like your mother.”

 

“Father.” Morgan furrowed his brow, “I cannot keep this charade up much longer…I need to know if you’re going to be alright.  I heard that you went to Naga to try to bargain for mother’s life back.” He bit his own lip for a moment, “She’s gone. Father. For now she’s gone and…even I have accepted that.”

 

The exalt tried to keep himself calm, Morgan’s words being all but comforting in this time.  The reality of the situation could not be accepted by him, not just yet.  He knew Robin had to be out there somewhere, and one day she would come back—that proof was sitting right before him.  Still, Chrom was rather shocked to hear this from the boy who, arguably, loved his mother more than anything else. Yet, in his state of mental fatigue Chrom let forth a low chuckle,

 

“Morgan, if only it were that easy to accept it. I know you loved your mother very much. I loved her, too. So very much. I still do. That’s why I’ve been trying to look for her.  I’ve spent months sending people out along our borders to find her. She’ll show up-”

 

“But what about Lucina?” Morgan interrupted, “What about my, uh, little sister? What about her? Have you been taking care of her?”

 

Chrom cocked a brow,

 

“Why would you ask that?”

 

“Father I fear that you’re outright _obsessing_ over trying to find mother, and your failure in doing so is making you neglect your duties. I know no one else could tell you this but…I think it’s time to let go. When I came into the castle, father, I heard her.  I heard her cry for you in the arms of a maid. Little Lucina needs you.” 

 

He heard this time and time again from Frederick and his sister, yet somehow hearing it from Morgan made his blood run cold.  No, it wasn’t Morgan talking to him. It was Robin.

 

Robin sat right before him.  His beautiful wife with her beautiful hair and those gorgeous eyes.  That furrowed brow and that concerned look; he received it many times before, especially when he made awfully ignorant decisions.

 

_Take care of Lucina.  Take care of our baby.  She needs you more than anything in this world. Please. For me._

“Robin…”

 

“Father.”

 

And just like that, the mirage vanished.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“Father, your face…”

 

Tears. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and dripping down onto his collar. His chest had tightened with emotion, and soon his breathing became nothing more than a shallow gasp. Morgan watched as the exalt of Ylisse slowly turned into a sobbing, broken down mess.  He wasn’t sure what set this off, but the least the young man could do was to approach his father and gently wrap his arms around him.

“It’s going to be alright, father.”

 

Yet all the lord could do was cry, cry into the arms of a son whom he might never meet. The one thing that Robin asked of him was to take care of their daughter, and even he neglected that one simple wish.  It was her wish and his promise; on the day of Lucina’s birth, Chrom made it clear to his infant daughter that he would do anything and everything for her.  He would be the father he never had; a father who would love and cherish his wife and children.  A father who would watch his children grow, who would help them learn, and who would guide them to be loyal and loving. 

 

 

He was all but that, and in that moment he finally understood:

 

Robin was gone…

 

And Lucina needed him more than anything.


	5. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

“Daddy, I wanna…wanna go…outside!”

 

“Do you now? Why do you want to go out there?”

 

“Because butterflies! The butterflies are outside!”

 

“That’s a good enough argument for me. Come on, daddy will carry you.”

 

The shrill squeal that came from his daughter made him chuckle. It was late summer, a tad hot outside for his liking but Lucina seemed to rather enjoy running about in the grass chasing anything that flew away from her.  Butterflies, moths, flies, even bees, none were safe from her grasp (aside from the bees, she learned the hard way that they should be left alone). 

 

“Do you like your new sundress that Auntie Lissa got for you?” he asked his fidgeting daughter, who seemed to dislike the itchy new fabric. She simply grumbled before grabbing at the braid in her hair. “Hey, now. Auntie Lissa worked really hard on that.”

 

“I’m sorry.” She lowered her hand and looked up to her father for a moment, “How long…how long will...Auntie be here, daddy?”

 

“I’m not sure. She likes playing with you, so I think it’s hard for her to leave.”  Truly, Lissa worried about Lucina’s lack of a motherly figure, so her visitations were rather common.

 

“I want her to stay forever!” there was a slight tinge of a pout, “But not Owain, he’s smelly!”

 

“He’s a baby, Lucina. He’s always smelly.” He knew she wouldn’t quite understand, yet he chuckled nonetheless. But then Lucina averted her attention elsewhere as he walked the halls with her in his arms. Every single hallway seemed different to her; she often got lost in her adventures and cried for Uncle Freddy until he found her.  Though, on some days a good game of hide-and-seek with her father was in order.

 

“Daddy!” immediately her arm shot up with a tiny finger pointing at a portraiture, “Daddy! Is that you?”

 

Chrom stopped in his tracks for a moment, slowly turning a heel in hopes that the portrait wasn’t that of his father. Yet, to his surprise and slight dismay, the image before him happened to be the last one he sat for—the last one created before the fall of Grima.  Before him hanged a canvas depicting him and his late wife; Robin seated as he stood behind her with Falchion in hand, tip notably in the ground as he usually positioned it time and time again.

 

He remembered that day clearly; they stood like that for hours, Robin occasionally making a quip or two to break the awkward silence. The artist at work would beg for her not to smile and for Chrom to stop chuckling, yet Robin wondered aloud why she couldn’t be depicted with a smile—why was it the norm to be so serious? Then she realized how painful it was to sit there for more than ten minutes with a smile on her face.  She was pregnant, too. Three months along, yet the dress hid any signs of it.

 

“Yeah, that’s me, Lucina.” He took a step closer, noting the golden plate that read ‘ _High Exalt Chrom, Queen Robin of Ylisse: year XXX’_.  “You weren’t even born yet.”

 

She tilted her head in confusion, eyeing the woman that sat in the foreground. It wasn’t her auntie. It wasn’t her nurse. Who was it?

 

“She’s pretty. I like her.”  Lucina’s innocent smile returned as she pointed to her mother.  Chrom…felt his heart sink for a moment. Just another reminder of how his daughter had no memory of her mother.  With a soft sigh, Chrom forced a smile,

 

“Of course she’s pretty. She’s the prettiest lady I’ve ever met. That’s your mommy, Lucina.”

 

“Mommy?” she tilted her head in confusion, “Like…like Auntie Lissa? She’s Owain’s mommy.” Lucina paused for a brief moment, her brow furrowing just for a moment like Robin’s did when she was deep in thought.  Chrom feared for what his toddler had to say next.

 

“Why isn’t mommy here?”

 

Gods, he never wanted to answer that. He never wanted to look her in the eyes and tell her that her mother was deceased. No one wanted to hear that. But what was he to tell her?  That Robin was on a trip? That would only give her hope…hope that Robin would return. 

 

Chrom had entirely accepted, at that point, that Robin had ascended.

 

“Well, you see, Lucina...your mother did something really brave when you were really small.  She made sure that me, you, Uncle Freddy, Auntie Lissa, Owain, and all of your friends could live a happy life.”

 

Could his three-year-old understand on her own the concept of death?

 

“So mommy is protecting me! Mommy is a good…good person.”

 

The lord held back tears; what a wonderful way to put it.  Robin wasn’t dead…she was simply a guardian angel, now. Protecting her family and friends, just as she did in her final hour.  Chrom’s eyes fell upon his wedding band,

 

“Of course she is, Lucina. I’m a very lucky person to have met your mother. I love her very much.”

 

“I wanna pick flowers for mommy!” she began to kick her legs, “I wanna pick flowers for mommy and put them right here! Right here, daddy!”

 

Bless Lucina. Gods bless Lucina for having a sort of understanding.  The worst fear Chrom had was that his daughter would despise the thought of her mother abandoning her.  It wasn’t the case, Robin never intentionally abandoned her family. Maybe by some miracle, his own daughter could recognize that way more quickly than he did.

 

“Alright, Lucina, let’s go pick flowers for mommy. If I remember correctly, she liked lilacs and daisies.”

 

“Daddy I don’t…know what those are! Are they pretty!?”

 

Another light chuckle as he nuzzled his daughter in his arms—her curiosity and wonder, how Robin would have adored to teach her daughter about the world around her. Lucina giggled at her father’s affection, pecking his cheek as he brought her closer to him.

 

“I love you, daddy!”

 

“…I love you, too, Lucina.”

 

“Milord.”

 

And just like that, the precious moment between father and child had been interrupted by the sound of Chrom’s wary knight. It sounded urgent—could this have been grim news? Not now…not while Chrom had a moment to actually spend time with his daughter.

 

“Frederick?”

 

“Uncle Freddy!” Lucina was always excited to see the knight, unlike her father at times, “Uncle Freddy! I’m gonna…pick flowers for mommy!” Again, Lucina pointed at the portrait, “Daddy…showed me mommy! She’s pretty!”

 

Frederick exhaled rather slowly, his usual frown somewhat forcibly pulled into a smile, “I’m pleased that your father showed you your mother. She was a very brave woman, Lucina. You look a great deal like her.”

 

The child couldn’t quite understand her father’s knight, but she grinned regardless, for she understood that he meant well due to his smile.

 

“Brigands again?” Chrom asked.

 

“Nay, but it has been awhile since a patrol has been done along the border, Milord. The south end, in particular. A day’s walk…”

 

Chrom knew the area…it was all too familiar to him. How many years had it been? Internally doing the math, he could recall that it might have been four or five years.

 

“Though I do not wish to disrupt your time with the princess, I thought I would let you know that we will be sending some of the new recruited Shepherds out there under Sully’s command. She’s returned from her own maternity leave and needs a bit of a refresher course.”

 

“Ah, that’s right, she just had Kjelle, didn’t she?”

 

It was all too surreal that the children from the future were being born on a near yearly basis.  As far as he knew, Lucina, Owain, Kjelle, Gerome, and Laurent were already living about in their world. At times he wondered when the others would arrive, and if Lucina would ever cross paths with them.

 

Not Morgan, though….

 

“Indeed, Milord. Yet I digress, the reason I felt to approach you…was that, by chance, would you like to join us?  Even Lady Lissa wants to go about on patrol, like old times.”

 

It was rare for Frederick to be sentimental, him being the man wishing to move on from the past.  Could it have been Lissa who asked him to approach Chrom? Unsure of how to respond, Chrom glanced at Lucina for a moment,

 

“I’ll get back to you on that. For now, Lucina and I have to pick some flowers for Robin…”

 

* * *

August. The sun was bright, the air was dry, and there were only a few clouds in sight. The small band of Shepherds had no choice but to take a moment to rest, it was simply too hot to continue on much further.  Chrom made the decision to scout ahead, less to check for danger and more to have a moment to himself. The area was just as he left it—trees dotting the horizon and long grasses covering up most of the paths that lead towards the Plegian border.  He could see the steeple of a church in the distance, the very same town they saved years ago.  Crossing his arms, the lord let out a soft sigh,

 

“To think, Frederick wanted to leave you here. To think that there was a small doubt in my mind that told myself to leave you here. But, you followed. You followed me until the end.” Chrom kicked the dirt a bit, the breeze blowing it right back at his pant leg, “Why do I still have a sliver of hope…?”

 

“Milord, we should be heading towards some form of safe haven before the sun sets.”  Frederick’s stern voice, once again, rang in Chrom’s ears. Such a serious case of déjà vu. Even Lissa stood next to their knight, a sad smile upon her visage.  Did she, too, know this familiar air?  Chrom tinkered with the hilt of Falchion, deep in thought as his eyes scanned the grasses,

 

“…You’re right. We should get going.” The lord slowly turned on his heel, feeling…slightly defeated. But why? Why did he feel as if this moment in time he needed to turn once more? No, he needed to head back to Frederick and Lissa…

 

Yet he turned, looking back towards the field once more.

 

“…..a-ah…” cerulean irises nearly ablaze with hope. “Is that…a person?”

 

The grasses shifted in the wind, some sort of object revealed itself in the distance.

 

“No, no it’s probably a boulder…I…”  No, he continued in that direction. He had to check. He HAD to check.

 

“Milord!”

 

“It…it looks like someone is fainted ahead!” Chrom called, “I have to check.”

 

“What?!”

 

Lissa was quick to follow, sprinting past Frederick and joining her brother’s side,

 

“You’re right!” she said, “What should we do!?”

 

Both exalted siblings could feel their hearts beating. Faster and faster. Their hearts, the speed of their sprints, they seemed to be in sync.

 

“W-we have…we have to offer our help…”

 

Chrom’s voice trailed off as the object came into view. It was certainly a person.

 

This had to be a dream.

 

Both exalted children stopped in their tracks to catch their breath, Chrom stumbling slightly due to sheer disbelief. The grasses revealed more of the figure, clad in a dark cloak, and seemingly sleeping. 

 

“Chrom…”

 

“…Why would anyone lay down here?” 

 

The lower half of the figure’s face had been exposed—those lips, that feminine jawline…it couldn’t be…

 

“…I’ve seen clothes like these before.”

 

“…Chrom…Chrom, we have to do something.”

 

Still in disbelief of the sight before him, the exalt approached the body, eyes tracing the familiar frame below.

 

“What do you propose we do?”

 

It could have been a trap. Gods, it could have been some sort of mirage.  Maybe even her corpse, he couldn’t tell if she was breathing, her cloak was far too thick and baggy. Would she even remember him…?

 

“I dunno-” Lissa had tears in her eyes for she, too, was in complete disbelief.

 

And then the figure woke up, amber irises glowing the same as they did the first time they found her. Her lip quivered for a moment; was she, too, in disbelief? Did she recognize the faces before her, her husband and dearest sister-in-law?

 

With a pain welling in his chest, Chrom chose to keep his composure. He had to.  He couldn’t startle her, but for sure the woman upon the ground was, indeed, his wife. Chrom worked at his lip for a moment before feigning a smile, pushing back tears,

 

“I see you’re awake now.”

 

Lissa followed suit, smiling as well, calmly, while saying the familiar lines, “Hey there…”

 

“…There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know…” a light quip, something that he jested to Robin many a time before. Any time she fell, he would say those exact words.  Would she remember this? “Give me your hand.”

 

He offered it in the exact same way, that familiar grey gloved palm reaching out for the delicate hand imprinted with the mark of Grima…

 

But when she reached for him, he noticed her pristine skin.  It had vanished. Chrom quickly pulled his wife to her feet, her hood falling to reveal the locks he so cherished.  Everything about her. Every. Single. Thing. Was the same. She hadn’t aged a day, either.  What vessel was this?

 

He prayed, oh God did he pray that she had her memories. Robin was completely dazed, as if she had slept…for two years straight.

 

But that daze soon vanished, her lips curling into a smile.  Chrom, on the other hand, was seconds from outright weeping.  Calmly, he intertwined his fingers with her own.  They fit so perfectly together.

 

He took a good moment to look at her, bringing a fingertip under her chin—she, too, was holding back tears. He could tell….She remembered him.  The tactician brought her free hand to Chrom’s cheek, gently touching the skin that she, too, remembered fondly.  Had Lissa not stood before them…Chrom might as well lost his composure.  Her skin was so warm, just as he remembered. And when they mutually leaned in, pressing their lips together, Chrom understood that the days of his grieving were long gone, and to be forgotten.  He waited…

 

He waited so long…

 

“Robin…!” Lissa’s voice shook, she could no longer keep her composure.

 

Chrom’s wife, tactician, and other half calmly parted from him, looking him in the eyes with a warm smile. Immediately, the lord dropped his hands from her own and wrapped his arms around her waist. His face went directly into the crook of her neck, tears dampening the skin rather quickly.  His heart, how it burned yet fluttered all the same… 

  

_“…Welcome back, it’s all over now, my love...”_


End file.
